


Ecclesiazusae, Have you never heard of it ?

by SaintSaens



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Classical References, Classics, Crossdressing, Democracy, Drug Use, Drugs, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Fem!R, Female Grantaire, Feminist Themes, Gen, Misogyny, Period-Typical Sexism, Sexism, after all it's the 1830's, it's Grantaire we're talking about after all, talks of democracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintSaens/pseuds/SaintSaens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a drunk and a flirt; an intelectual when he wants to be; an artist if he feels like it, and a cynic even though he does not always care to truly show it. </p><p>Grantaire is loud, obnoxious, artistic, political, hard-drinking, and better-read and better-spoken than most men.</p><p>But most of all, Grantaire is a woman, or anyway she use to be. That is until she came to Paris and faced the harsh truth of the French society under the Restauration. So she turned to wine, though she was already attracted to it. Then she turned to male clothing. And then, she met the Amis.</p><p>And then she was swayed between their words of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity. And she was wesmerized by their leader in red, breathing fire and living for his passion.</p><p>But surely enough, she slowly became fed up by all the talks that were taking place in the group while they kept excluding citizens from their Revolution and their beliefs. As they reject shamelessly yet another girl who wanted to assist in their meeting, the last straw for the woman dressed as a man snaps. </p><p>And they are all in for a surprising quest between reality, prejudices and ideals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Carnus to Carya : A Seer's Awakening

« Is this a joke ? Are you all joking right now ? »

The laughs and the discussion subsided slightly in the room when the Amis heard Grantaire almost screaming at them.  The drunkard was standing, not even swaying on his feet, his hand fisted around his last bottle of wine.

“What is it this time Grantaire ?” Enjolras asked curtly. He did not have time for the cynic’s antics. They had already been slowed down by the girl coming in a few minutes ago. They had a revolution to plan, words to pass.

“Why, why on earth did you turn this poor girl down ?” His tone was disbelieving and it brought a frown to the leader. Why did he care so suddenly; it wasn’t as if it were the first time he was doing so.

“She doesn’t have anything to do here, Grantaire. I don’t understand why you would be so riled up about it truly. As a woman she has better things to do than stay here with us.”

Every one nodded softly. Enjolras really did not see why Grantaire was reacting like that. It was natural after all that they won’t take any women in their group. It was dangerous, first, and their role was to take care of the children of the Republic. He had said so to the girl, and she had left without making a fuss.

 Unlike their drunkard.

“And what things are these, please explain it to me!” Grantaire seemed helpless then, and frustrated. “What things are so much more important according to you than your revolution? I did not think you of all people would  turn down any help you can get from the people themselves.”

“Honestly Grantaire why don’t you just drop it ?” Courfeyrac asked laughing. “It’s nothing new that women have nothing to do here, with us. You of all men should understand how much of a distraction they could be!' This statement brought a few toasts and laught from the club. Courfeyrac, smiling, went on." Sure, it is better for them to believe in the Revolution, but then they just have to teach their sons the beliefs they have. And those sons will help. It’s already enough to ask of them don’t you think ?”

Grantaire brought his bottle down with too much strength. It stopped Courfeyrac’s laugh. The man was truly  feeling uneasy now.  As he glanced around, he noticed he was not the only one in this position.

“So, is that it? Is that all women are to you? Just reproducing machines who only matter as long as they can bear sons?” He laughed without humor, resentfully. “Oh! You can talk of liberty and equality ! You can talk of all those greats ideals but when you have to put them into practice, you are no better than the rest of them.” His tone was bitter, and harsh. Even during their worst arguments, none of the Amis could remember such bitterness from him.

“Grantaire, someone has to teach the children…” Started Combeferre before being cut off curtly

“Isn’t that what teachers are for? And anyway, what about the father of the children? Does he have nothing to do with their upbringing? Is he really that worthless to his family that it does not matter if HE partakes in your stupid revolution?”

“You’re missing the point here, Grantaire.”

“Then,  _please_ , explain it to me!”

“She has better things to do than stay here and talk about things she doesn’t understand !” Enjolras tone did not let any place for a comeback. He had brought his fist down in a fit of anger. This conversation was done.

But Grantaire only smirked, sarcasticly.

“Oh, so that’s what it is about then ? You think because she is a woman she doesn’t understand politics and laws and society’s inequalities. Do you even hear yourself here?” He was looking around, watching each and every one of them. “You’re saying that women can’t take part in the revolution because they are too stupid for that.”

“Come on, Grantaire. You have to admit they are not really smart”  Bahorel went on "Have you seen her ? She looked like a lost child and was babling on and on... poor thing" he winked, kicking Feuilly in the ribs.

“And whose fault is that hum ? Whose fault is it they never received proper education like their fellow men? Have you forgotten your classics? Let me straighten you up a bit. Plato, book five of the Republic. “He turned cold. “ ” _Are dogs divided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them?_ ” Do I need to go even further ?”

Before anyone could reply Grantaire went on “ _And if so, my friend, I said, there is no special faculty of administration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also_.”

Enjolras could not stand it anymore and without thoughts, completed the sentence the artist had just started

“ _But in all of them a woman is inferior to a man._ ” His tone was dry and he looked ready to snap with fury.

Grantaire looked at him as if it were the very first time he was seeing the leader. He nodded slightly, a look of pity in his eyes.

“I wanted to think you had improved since the first time I saw you. I wanted to believe that you, you of all people, with your talk of equality, had understood that women were no different than men.  But apparently I was wrong, wasn’t I ?” His wishful tone was broken in the end. Every man in the Amis looked at one another, mute.

Everybody was silent, not daring to look him in the eyes. His fury was something they had never seen before, and they were not ready to face it. Enjolras alone was standing too, fuming with furious eyes at being caught into his own speech so easily.

“You are disgusting, all of you.” It was said with plain disdain. And each and every one of them would have lied if later they had dared to say they had not lowered their eyes, or their heads in shame.

“How can you, the drunkard, say that? How dare you judge us, when the only thing you’re good at is drinking yourself silly every night, and criticizing everything we do!” Enjolras almost screamed back.  He was unable to control his anger any longer.

 

“Oh yeah! Let’s talk about that shall we? Me, a useless drunkard, a nonbeliever, a joke of a man, you accept _me_ into your merry band of revolutionaries. But the woman, who had the courage to come in, face you all, and ask you to be a part of your revolution, you turn her down? She believed Enjolras, she believed. And she had ideas. But no, you only saw her dress and her hair when you looked at her. You only saw the breast and the cunt hidden under her clothes, and so, you decided that she was not good enough for your revolution is that it ?”

“Grantaire, you’re just being crude now…” Joly put in.

“You could see she had no knowledge of what she was talking about…” Combeferre supported

Grantaire threw his bottle in the middle of the room, silencing them all. With the shock they did not see the glint of tears in his eyes, nor the shaking of his hands at his sides.

“ You say men are capable of improving themselves if only they wished too. And yet, you see every women as Calonice when they could easily become Lysistrata ! It doesn’t matter if she’s more intelligent than all of you, you would have turned her down anyway because she had the curse of being born as a woman and not as a man.” His voice was slightly wavering.

“You’re drunk Grantaire. Get out.” Enjolras had not flinched at the eccentricity of his friend.  He was striding toward him, pointing at the door.

“Maybe I am, you’re right, maybe I am. But don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong on that point, because you know damn well that I’m saying the truth on the matter.”

“You have no proof of what you advance, you’re drunk out of your mind, please Grantaire for the love of our friends’ sake, stop now” He grabbed Grantaire arm and was about to push him out when he heard him whisper.

“Four years ago.” Grantaire stated, looking at him blankly. Enjolras, put off, felt his grip falter as he was trying to make sense of the words.

“What ?”

“Four years ago” Grantaire repeated, with fierceness. He shrugged his arm out of Enjolras’ grasp and came closer to him, threatening.

“Four years ago, a woman came here in your back room right after the end of one  of your so important meeting. She came in, she made a speech, and you rejected her. You mocked her because she dared to believe in your revolution, her, a stupid woman of all people.”

“I don’t see your point, and anyway, I don’t remember…” Enjolras was starting to feel uncomfortable under Grantaire’s eyes.

“I do.” Feuilly said, raising slowly from his own seat. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. “I do remember her. She had made a great speech, Enjolras I’m sure you’ll remember if you think about it. It was almost as great as one of yours, and yet she claimed she had written nothing when you had asked her.”

 He was looking at his friends, trying to make them remember the daring woman from back then, as if desperate. Enjolras just watched him questioningly.

“She quoted Danton, and Robespierre. She talked about the Greek democracy, which you had referred to in your own speech. She quoted you ! And she said it was not an ideal fine enough for us because it excluded too many people from citizenship. You have to remember her, Enjolras, because even weeks after her stand you were still impressed. You started paying more attention to your speeches. Because she had talked about equality even better than you did back then.”

Enjolras suddenly remembered. He remembered the time when there were only a few of them here, he remembered the time when it was all utopia and no reality. He remembered the woman he had seen, standing in the middle of the room, proud and unwavering. She had black hair hold in a messy coiffure and bright blue eyes. She was covered in dust and mud, as if she had been walking around in the streets for all week, but she stood out, pale skin stark against a dark green and blue dress covered with fine motifs. She smelled like alcohol and opium, she laughed carelessly when Courfeyrac tried to flirt with her and waved him off with a clear sing-song voice and a sharp reply. She had not come here for that, but maybe latter, why not.

She was passionate in her stance and she did not stepped back when Enjolras destroyed her arguments.

“And yet you rejected her.” Grantaire’s voice was grave. “You rejected her because of her dress and her breast. You thought she would only corrupt your movement. You told her she had to go back to her parents or her husband if she had one. You told her she had to bear sons and teach them your beliefs, but that she could not be as active as a man in the revolution .” His head was bent, but the waver in his voice could not hide the emotions he felt.

“You said to her she could not endanger the future children she would bear. You said that if she threw herself into the revolution, she would kill future citizen and that it was not acceptable. Because it was her duty as a woman to have sons and raise them. And only that. ” Feuilly finished, horrified.

Enjolras was silent for a moment. He was thinking, quickly, because something felt wrong. Something did not add up. And that’s when he realized.

“How do you know about that Grantaire? You were not there four years ago, you were not yet part of the Amis. So how do you know?” He hissed angrily the last sentence, confused out of his mind. Riddles were not something he loved or appreciated. Even less so when the riddles concerned him or his revolution.

“Because I was there.” He raised his head then, and Enjolras went pale. The drunk had tears in his bright blue eyes and his mouth was set into a thin line, and yet he laughed softly, shaking his dark curly hair.

“Four years ago, I came in and you threw me out, because I dared to be a woman talking about ideals, about revolution. You, all of you, you mocked me. You patronized me even though I had shown you the knowledge I had, which was far greater than most of your followers at the time. You laughed at me because I was wearing a muddy dress, don’t deny it. I heard you laugh when I left the room. You were laughing, because I was nothing more than a working girl to you, a working girl who you thought did not know what she was talking about.”

“You mocked me,  my learning, and my state without wondering what I felt. I taught myself those things, Enjolras, and I thought that with you I would be able to do something of myself. I thought I would be able to change the way I was viewed by society,  I thought I could be more than only a reproducing machine whose purpose was bearing sons and daughter for the nation.”

“That woman was obnoxious, she was boisterous, we did not…” Enjolras had a hard time believing  Grantaire was the woman from that time, and he was struggling to get his mind into place.

“But when I came back two years ago, you did not care that I was just a waste of a man, a drunk, an opium-eater who did not believe at all. You took me in without questions. And you kept me, even though I brought nothing to your revolution!” He shook his head then.

“Really, I thought you would have improved since that time. But maybe I was just fooling myself once again. You are a new Aeschines my dear leader, truly. You fool people with your actor skills! “He laughed breathlessly and went to leave when he felt Enjolras’ hand around his arm again.

Without waiting, Grantaire pushed him away, anger in his features.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you disgusting hypocrite. I am no Demosthenes but don’t think I cannot fight off your pathetic counterfeit beliefs” The insult, so unusual from Grantaire, made Enjolras step back, his hand raised in the air, gaping.

“Grantaire…” Jehan was pleading; his hand rose on his mouth as if to choke back a cry.

“Don’t. All of you, you are disgusting. You can keep talking about freedom and equality; you can trick yourself into thinking you’re improving the world; stay on your stage, great actors that you are. But know, know, that you are nothing more than play-acting revolution. Disgusting hypocrites, that’s all you are, and that’s all you always will be I dare believe.” Grantaire was defiant and when he left, he did not even look back.

And none of the Amis dared to move, or even go after him. Him, whom they had betrayed. Him, their friend, whom they had mocked.

 

* * *

 

 

_[Ecclesiazusae](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assemblywomen)is a comedy by Aristophanes where women involves themselves into politics._

 

_[Carnus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnus)is a seer lover of Apollo while [Carya ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carya_\(daughter_of_Dion\))is another seer but lover of DIonysus (I could not resist to show the parallels between them)_

_The Book 5 of Plato's[Republic ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Republic_%28Plato%29)is about the place of women in the society devised by Socrate._

_[Lysistrata](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lysistrata)is a comedy by Arisophanes about women withholding sexual privileges from their husband in order to stop a war._

_Demosthenes destroyed the arguments of Aeschines, a former actor who became politican and who thus was thought unworthy of trust (hence the term of hypocrisy from hypokrites which is a technical term for stage actor)_

 

More to be added as the work goes on !


	2. L'aiguille et l'épée ne sauraient être maniées par les même mains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to thank every single person who left a comment on my previous chapter.
> 
> I am sorry I kept you waiting this long for this one, but as I previously stated it I felt that if I went over this fic too quickly I would disappoint basically everyone. 
> 
> By the time I had found a proper way to keep it going (I have planned at least 10 chapter so far. I won't go very far after that, maybe 15 chapters at most honestly. Because I don't want to make something too long for you since I favour quality over quantity !)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll be pleased with this one. I think the third chapter will follow quite soon :) have fun reading dears
> 
> (and I can't see if there are any errors in the text right now so sorry if you find some! Will come back on it tomorrow )
> 
> (the title comes from Emile ou de l'Education by Rousseau it basically means : the needle and the sword cannot be handled by the same hand)

The silence that followed Grantaire’s leave was ear-shattering for the Amis.

None of them dared to move. Surely it could have been a painting if an artist had been there to see it. Puppets; out of all of them, with their arms raised in mid-movements. And their eyes; locked and dazed .

Where were the strings? Surely, it could have made a cynic laugh.

But no artist in the back room of the Musain that night. No cynic neither.  Their own had went away suddenly, and had left nothing in their hearts but grief and remorse. If it was not for the wine spilling slowly on the ground they would have thought to be under Circe’ spell; as if the nightmare that had plagued them not so long ago was all but an evil woman’s doing.

Well, in a way it was a woman’s doing. Even a women’s one. But were they evil? Truly none of them could bear the thought of accusing them of that, when they had witnessed such a display of pain and disillusion in the eyes of a soul they liked to call a friend. And a dear one at that.

When they realized they had been blind to the distress of Grantaire because of some twisted thoughts of theirs, they cringed inwardly, retreating into themselves from the brutal reality of their words. And the worst of it all was to comprehend that, in their beliefs, they had been flawed.

Them, the Amis, had been wrong. And even worse, they had done wrong. They had actually actively oppressed and condemned for their sole existence some citizens of the nation and believers in there revolution.

And in their heart, the men were falling slowly but steadily toward something they thought they would never have to feel again. They were falling toward Doubt. And nothing was there to prevent them not to drown in it. 

The first one who dared to move was Feuilly, who was looking lost as he slowly sat down on his chair. Jehan, at his side, put his hand on his shoulder. He needed the grounding in order not to fall over; while Feuilly needed the purpose not to break. Jehan’s other hand was trembling ever so slightly, covering his mouth. His breath was moist against his skin. Just like his bright eyes. And his still look was rapt by the thin rain falling outside the Café.  It had just started he thought, his heart bleeding slowly out on his hand. It had just started raining and the sun was nowhere in sight. His glance hardened instantly.

He hated then the stupid clichés that his life was so full of. It was no help at all. And it was just plain absurd; and stupid; when one of his dearest friends was out there, hurting like never before, because of them. Stupid Rain. Stupid Romantics. Stupid life and its stupid way of killing people.  In a fire of anger and distress he took the bottle that stood in front of him and threw it with a scream filled by tears to the ground. It joined the other one, and their mixed red liquids created such a perfect tableau of seeping blood that Jehan wanted to laugh. Instead he fell on his knees, his head in his hand, whispering words of worry and wonder and apologies that could not reach the soul they were intended for.  To others it sounded strangely like a loose string of negation, muffled “no” that tried to prevent everything from falling apart.  Even though they were too late for that.

Feuilly was still, arms limp on the table. He had not reacted to the strike of violence that happened. He was thinking, deeply. His wine did not bear any attraction to him now that he looked at his glass; but no matter what, he could neither take his eyes away from it.

On his other side, Bahorel looked at his own bottle as if it was retelling the secrets of life and death; maybe the secrets of Men and Women; the brawler considered the women he taunted in the streets, the one he took to his bed; the one he had apparently drink and fight with, laugh with … and maybe with that last expectation, Bahorel dared to hope, the wine would tell the secrets of Grantaire.  Of this dear friend that always managed to bewilder them in a twirl of fumes and mock gestures.

But nothing good could come from such a dark and intricate drink. It mesmerized men when needed; but as soon as the Veil was lifted, the alcoholic beverage tore through their mind and chocked them with harsh truths and half concealed lies. The man winced and closed his eyes with pain.

Grantaire, Bahorel realized in a feat of poetic justice, was more alike wine than they ever thought it possible.

Courfeyrac was the first to properly react. He had stood there, when Enjolras had pushed their drunkard away. He had got up, following him from afar, to prevent any harm to be done to either of them. But now, now he realized he had been useless. His hand raised in the air, trying to stop Grantaire from slipping away, slowly came down by his side. And suddenly he stumbled a few feet back, slumped against the wall at his back and let himself go to the floor in a dazed state just as he heard Jehan screaming against Fate and Gods.

When he sat there, facing the others he blinked and looked at them, helpless. None dared to move yet again. He turned to Combeferre, his mind and his heart racing as Grantaire had surely been racing not so long ago out of the café, out in the streets; out of their lives,  and maybe out of their minds.  And they stayed there not doing anything. Passive.

No, never out of their minds.

And Courfeyrac acted on instinct. He got up, scrambled to his feet, and shaking Enjolras by the shoulder he called everyone attention’s to him. He would not let Grantaire go away so easily. She owed them answers. They owed her apologies and so, so much more than that.

But  in order to give her that, to make it happen, they needed to see him, her… Grantaire! Again. And that would never happen if they stayed there like the unbelievable idiots they were.

“And what exactly do you think you’re all doing?”

His voice was ice for his friends when it used to be warm and joking. But even though he cared about them, there was no reason for him to sugar coat what they did. Or what they did not do.

“We are doing nothing Courfeyrac, that’s what we are doing.” Came Enjolras sharp reply. He kept looking between the door, and Grantaire’s seat. His fists were clenched at his side but otherwise he looked as calm as ever.  Only the collar of his shirt was in disarray and he deftly straightened it by tugging on his waistcoat.

He was fuming.

“Exactly. We are doing nothing.” Courfeyrac could not help but point out. He was becoming exasperated and tired of all this charade of petty Revolution and principles.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Courfeyrac could not take his composed behavior anymore. He threw himself at him, catching him by the neck and pushing him against the wall. Now he could be damn if all Enjolras had to do in order to forget the altercation was straightening yet again his red bloody jacket.

“We are  NOT. DOING. A. DAMN. THING. , while  A FRIEND OF OURS IS OUT THERE, UNDER THE RAIN. ALONE. BECAUSE OF US.”

Enjolras had caught his wrist in a firm grisp and tried to wrestled himself out of his grip. But Courfeyrac only caught on tighter.  His left hand was clenched at the throat of his friend while the other was pushing his shoulder into the wall.

“And what do you want us to do hum ?” Enjolras rasped, out of breath. But he never stopped fighting him off. “Go on. We are all listening Courfeyrac. What do you want us to do for him?  He stormed away. Do _you_ think he would want us to go after _him_ ?”

Courfeyrac released him as he saw Enjolras’ skin turn an angry red under the pressure of his hands. He breathed heavily, stunned at his own action and at his leader’s words. Sweat was dripping down his cheek to his own neck and he felt all of a sudden very cold.

“It does not matter what SHE would want us to do.” Courfeyrac screamed to Enjolras. He could not witness anymore the way his friend was holding himself as if about to fall,(just because of him, of his strength, and of his words) so he looked around “what matters is TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT. And staying here, doing nothing, while we could be making a difference is not what is right.”

“ Now that you ask, I think, that was is right is to go look for Grantaire. Because Man or Woman this stubborn cynic is still our friend.”

“And what will you have us do once we found him ? Do you think Grantaire will want to listen to us. To what we have to say?” Enjolras spoke, daring him to look back at what he did a few seconds ago.  He had straightened again, and defiantly looked at one of his closest lieutenant with fire in his eyes.  Courfeyrac’s back was still in front of him, and the once-joker only tilted his head to see the man moving behind him. Said man sneered at the display, and with a voice full of disdain stated

“As if he ever listened.”

Courfeyrac spine around and pointing his finger to Enjolras’ face he willed himself not to hit him. Grantaire cherished it so much he could not bring himself to hurt something he… she had liked. Misplaced contempt or not.

“We will find HER. And once we have, we will make her listen. Because what we will tell her will be worth it and she knows it. We will apologize to her, because that’s what is right. We wronged her with our talks of rich boys trying to make the world a better place. We were obtuse and she opened our eyes. She needs to know that. At least.”

He continued , eyes casted down in shame and regret; his fist, clenched in the air, trembled ever so slightly in front of Enjolras. “And if after that she does not want to talk to us anymore, I for one would let her go, knowing she did what she wanted. What is right is to give her the choice to hear our apologies and to take actions from then on.  She is our friend, even if we thought her different at first, even if we made fun of her because of who she was, she is our friend. She proved her value, her strength and her courage more time than we could ever do. And she proved it whereas none of us had to in order to be listened to. ”

“She came here every week dressed as a man, knowing full well that it could have caused her trouble. She came here dressed as a man because she knew that otherwise none of us would have listened to her thoughts. And maybe, Enjolras, you think her thoughts were unworthy of our pursuits but…”

“I do not…” Enjolras was affronted but Courfeyrac cut him off with a wave.

“ Do I need to remind everyone that we pledge ourselves to France, to the Republic? And even though we say we follow _Liberty, Equality,  and Fraternity or Death_ , I can’t help but think that she showed us how wrong we were as much about Liberty than Equality. We prevented women from expressing themselves by refusing them access to our club, just because we thought they were unlearned.  They maybe did not have our education, but I think I can safely assure that they had the education that comes from living as an oppressed group in a exclusive society. We, the naïve schoolboys following the Revolution ideals, went against their liberty to exist in society. And as for Equality, we learned today how we dealt with it in matter of sex. That is to say, poorly. That is to say, not at all. But at least, please, let us show her that in matter of Fraternity, we are right. And we know how to be brothers, and we know how to treat our sisters, now more than ever. And let us show how we can improve toward Liberty and Equality because we learned today thanks to her.”

The Amis all stood as Courfeyrac resumed talking facing them. He looked around, wary of their reactions. They were lost in thoughts. It was hard to swallow down the reality of their mindsets: they were creating an inequality between man and woman solely because one of them dared to be the one baring children. It was not the first time Courfeyrac thought about it honestly, what with all the women he encountered on lonely nights. But he was sure it was a first for the Amis as a club to think about it. And more importantly, to accept how their actions wronged their ideals.

And he was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder from behind him. Enjolras was looking at him with a small smile on his face. He looked tired but grateful.

“You are right, as always my friend.  Today, we learned a great deal as to what our actions spoke of. We saw that we were not yet perfect for what we aimed to create. As we learned from Grantaire we must recall what guide us forward in our quest. In 1789 already some men had thought about it. _The goal of any political association is the conservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man. These rights are liberty, property, safety and resistance against oppression.”_ This is what we wanted when we formed the Amis at first. Grantaire, I think we can all agree on that, fought valiantly against the oppression of our poorly formulated views. And for that we do indeed need to seek her out. As to my unfortunate comments, I would like to apologize to you, my friend.”He looked at Courfeyrac with gratitude. “I am sorry I gave you the impression you needed to remind us of how les Lumières guided our work, truly.” He chuckled softly, and it brought all the others to live. Bahorel and Feuilly toasted to them both, drowning their glasses in one go. Jehan got up with Marius help and they nodded seriously.

“So, dear Leader, what do you suggest we do?”

“As Courfeyrac said, we will apologize to Grantaire as soon as we find…her.” He stated, confusion still marring his eyes.

“As to that” Jehan piped up “I don’t think it would be good to go after Grantaire right away. I mean, I’ve known him… or at least I thought I knew h-her for a while, so I can tell you it would be best to let her calm down before we go find her. We are all in high spirits after such a commotion. Talking and most of all apologizing requires more wisdom than anger. We should, I believe, sleep on it, in order to make the most of it. Otherwise I’m afraid we would make it worst.”

Marius went pale as he looked out of the window. “But… it’s dark already. What if something happens to her?”

Joly went to get his coat and picked up his hat. “Yes, it is late anyhow, and I am pretty sure our friend went to her flat. We do not need to worry ourselves over her soul. It would not be the first time she had to go back home in the dark of night I daresay. And unlike any other women I know, she can hold her own in a fight if needed. We will see her tomorrow. Jehan is right. A high blood pressure does no wonder to the brain of a man…”

At those finals words, the Amis began to leave the back room of the Musain slowly. At last, only Combeferre and Enjolras were left in the café. The first one was looking straight at a candle flickering away while the last one was looking at a couple of pages on the table.  

It was one of his favorite readings. Some selected passage of _Emile ou de l’Education_ by Rousseau. He trailed a hand slowly on top of them, spreading them swiftly to read the dreaded words that had guided his life so far.

“ _La raison, le jugement viennent lentement, les préjugés accourent en foule._ » He quoted hissing with a dazed tongue.[Reason, judgement come slowly ; prejudices come runing]

Combeferre watched him over his glasses. As he went to clean them with the hem of his handkerchief using the feeble light of their last candle, he answered in a calm undertone.

“ _La femme est faite spécialement pour plaire à l’homme._ ” [Woman is especially made to please Man]

Enjolras shoulders were hunched and his head bowed down in defeat.

“Combeferre…”

“Yes, Enjolras ?”

“Is it wrong that… I know now that of course Courfeyrac is right. We need equality between Man and Woman to have a respectful society but… I can’t help but think about how they are the bearers of future citizens; how the children need their mothers to be guided properly; I can’t help but think at what a family could be like without a mother at home for the children…They can’t go around working in the high places of society, they can’t go about drinking. They are supposed to represent the family, the nation. They can’t debase themselves with trivial activities!” He let out a frustrated noise as papers were cramped in his fists.

“ I just can’t. I know Grantaire said…she said… she wanted  equality. She wants freedom as much as any of us. But she is a woman for Christ’sake . If they get to act as Men in society there will soon be no society anymore!” He threw away the papers, making them fall on the ground, and the candle flickered its last ray of light as the breath of the movement ended it.

 

And under the light of the window, a gray sky judging them, they watched unmoving as the papers that hold their ideals were soaked in red wine unhurriedly. Dying at the hand of vice and harsh truth.

“I just can’t wrap my mind around it.” Enjolras declared in the dark, utterly defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circe is a well-known witch in The Odysseus that casted a spell on Ulysses and his mates to keep them with her. 
> 
> The quote referring to “the goal of any political association…” comes from the 1789 Declaration des Droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen.
> 
> The two last quotes are from Emile ou de l’Education by Rousseau as previously stated. I am to blame for the bad traduction from French to English but the sense is there if not the style. The V chapter is a pile of stereotypes and prejudices regarding women’s condition in society. It’s appalling really when you think about it. I suggest you read it though! It’s quite a read in all honesty.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! This is the result of a prompt on makinghugospin 
> 
> http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/14280.html?thread=14150856#t14150856


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